The Wildflower
by AlliTheWriter
Summary: Joana Daisy Gilbert had been in a coma for over a year, ever since the fatal car accident on Wickery Bridge. On the night before senior year for Elena begins, “Jo” wakes up a completely different person. How will her presence affect the lives of those around her? Or, wherein a heavily damaged teenager wakes up in Mystic Falls and decides to go with the flow. SI-OC. TVD/TO/Legacies.
1. Wherein her life is introduced

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Part One

 **The Wildflower**

 _"I am a forest, and a night of dark trees: but he who is not afraid of my darkness, will find banks full of roses under my cypresses."_

― Friedrich Nietzsche

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	2. Wherein the end is not her end

i.

She remembered drowning.

She remembered screaming for help. Flailing in the water. Choking on salt. Her tears mixing with the sea.

She remembered feeling resigned to her fate. Floating instead of fighting. Swallowing instead of trying to keep her mouth closed. Her lungs burning.

She remembered aimlessly drifting. She saw no light. She only felt cold and dead and empty, but so full at the same time. _Heavy_. The water was still trapped inside of her, after all.

She was painfully aware of the cold grip death had on her heart. Aware of her stillness. She wasn't breathing. She was just floating. Like she was stuck on the exact moment in time wherein her heart stopped beating.

 _(Everyone had it wrong.)_

There were no fires in hell. Just water. The ocean. The salt and the sea invading every part of her. _Darkness_.

She burned. _Oh, how she burned._ But there was no fire. She felt only cold. Ice cold.

Sometimes she felt like she preferred a death by fire. Something warm. Something to fend off the all-consuming cold of drowning. Something to see instead of the nothing of a trench.

She felt like she didn't remember what warmth felt like anymore. Warmth from the hearth. Or a hot cup of coffee. Or a hug from a loved one. Her memories were a hazy blur. Each time she tried to remember the feeling of a warm embrace, it was tainted instead with the cold. Death creeped into every crevice of her mind.

She doesn't remember what grass felt like beneath her feet either, but she could imagine. She remembered it was green like the leaves on a tree. All she could do was try to remember what she could. All she had was time.

She didn't know how long she had been in that water. How long she had been dead. How long she had been trapped under the weight of an ocean. The life she had before she _only_ knew cold and wet and dark and isolation was slowly escaping her.

She thought she lost herself to the depths of the sea forever. Sometimes she imagined looking straight into her face. Pale skin turned even paler with a hint of grey. Unseeing hazel eyes. Brown _(sometimes blonde)_ hair floating above and around her head like a halo as she drifted further into the unfathomable abyss.

Sometimes she imagined watching her lifeless body sink deeper into the darkness, while her — another her — stayed floating a bit closer to the surface.

Ah, the surface. She could never quite reach it.

She was going crazy.

So crazy, in fact, that she imagined warmth.

She didn't know for certain if that was what warmth was. She didn't know if what she felt was real heat. But it was different. It wasn't cold. It was _something_.

She remembered fighting. Fighting harder than she ever did. Fighting harder against the waters that overtook her life. She fought like she should have the first time.

She clung to the possibility of warmth. She screamed and flailed and cried and swam higher and higher to the surface until she saw a light.

It looked like the sun.

 _(I opened my eyes.)_


	3. Wherein she breathes again

ii.

Turns out, it wasn't the sun.

It was a ceiling light that blinded her momentarily as she shot up.

She took a shuddering breath.

She paused.

She was _breathing_. She was so surprised by that fact that she laughed. Then she cried. She gripped her chest and felt it rise and fall and beat. Her heart was _beating_.

She was in hysterics, but she didn't care.

She was _alive._

 _(I'm alive, I'm alive, oh my God, I'm alive!)_

Then she heard a gasp.

She turned her teary eyes to the direction of the source. She hadn't heard anything in what felt like years aside from her own thoughts. It was a welcoming sensation.

"You're awake," the woman said breathlessly, wonder in her own eyes. Then she grinned ear to ear. Then abruptly ran outside. She could hear portions of what the woman was rapidly exclaiming to whoever was on the other side of the door, like "she's awake" and "call the Gilberts."

She was only alone for another moment before she came back in. The woman was wearing a white outfit that reminded her of a caretaker. _She was a nurse,_ she realized with a start. _A medical professional._

It took her some time to process where she was. She was in a hospital. A place where the sick and dying could be treated.

She _wasn't_ abandoned.

But as she looked at her surroundings, at the painted walls and cluttered belongings, she realized that there was something amiss. Hospital rooms don't normally look like this, she observed.

She looked down at herself, at the plain garb she had on, at the bright blue blanket that covered the bottom half of her torso down to her toes, and at the thin tubes connected to her body. Her eyes followed the direction they came from and finally noticed the machines that surrounded her bed.

"Hello?" It was like a bubble had been popped and she regained her senses. She was stuck in her head, it seemed.

 _(I've been in my head_ _for so long,_ _I'd have to get used to living again_.)

"Miss?"

She turned her head to the speaker. It was the brunette woman — the first person she'd seen since _dying_. She seemed to be concerned for her. She was a _nurse_ , she reminded herself. She _had_ to be.

"My name is Beatrice," the woman introduced herself, "do you know where you are?"

"...I'm in a hospital," she answered, hesitating. Why would she ask that? Was she right? Was she not in one?

"Not quite," she said with a smile, "you're in your room. Your treatment was moved to your house a few months ago."

 _(That's not right. M_ _y room doesn't look like this. What's happening?)_

"Do you remember anything about what happened before your coma?"

 _(Coma? Is that what happened?)_

Her breathing hitched.

 _(Water. Drowning. Dying. Floating. Cold. Death. Alone. Darkness. Water. Water. Water. Wat—)_

A hand gripped her arm comfortingly and just like that, she was pulled to the surface.

The hand felt warm. She almost cried in relief.

In fact, she did. Again and again. She was sobbing into the woman's shoulder. The nurse had began hugging her at some point and soothed her with words and comforting back rubs.

"Shhh, it's alright," Beatrice whispered. In her heart, she knew that too. She was in the surface and she was dry. She wasn't alone and she felt _warmth_. She would be alright.

Then the door burst open.


	4. Wherein she realizes something

iii.

"Jo?" Brunette teenagers appeared in the doorway, followed by a raven-haired man and an older-looking ash blonde.

She didn't have the chance to reply before being engulfed by the former on both sides. Their hugs were warming her even more and she felt touched that they were relieved enough to see her awake that they cried on her shoulders, but she was confused.

 _(I don't know them.)_

"Elena, Jeremy, please give her some space to breathe," the nurse reprimanded, but it was clear that she was amused. The teenagers grinned sheepishly then backed away, opting to sit by her feet instead, looking at her expectantly.

Her memories were still fuzzy and she still felt disoriented from the rapid change of scenery, but she was sure that she had never met these people in her life.

"I — I'm sorry," she stuttered, her thoughts racing, "but do I know either of you?"

Whatever had been alive in that room died in that moment.

Hearts paused. Breaths stilled. Eyes widened.

Then she followed up her question with, "where's my mom?"

The tension and the sadness in the room was almost palpable.

"Mom and dad died in the water, Jo," the brunette girl answered for them. Gently. Hesitantly. Like she was talking to _glass_. Perhaps she was. She certainly felt like it in that moment - but anything she would have said in response died in her throat.

 _(What are they saying? Dad's was already dead.)_

"What do you remember?" Elena asked this time.

She looked at the girl sitting before her. Doe brown eyes, olive toned skin, straight brown hair. She looked like someone she's only seen in tv and in her head while she was still under the weight of an ocean, entertaining herself with memories of plots and dramas from a life she no longer had.

She recalled that the actress was named Nina, but didn't the nurse call her Elena? And didn't she say "call the Gilberts?" Gilberts, like in the _show_?

She was so, _so_ confused.

She absently placed her poker face on as her emotions warred beneath. It was a habit that she had picked up on in her early teens, garnering a nickname that followed her throughout high school — _the Snow Queen._

A migraine pummeled through her head, but she needed to confirm what she was hearing and seeing.

She turned to the brunette boy sitting on the opposite side of the bed. Brown hair, light skin, brown eyes. He looked familiar as well. _Jeremy_

She turned her calculating eyes to the older man in the back. Noted the lines on his face, the ash blonde of his hair, and the worry in his eyes. _Alaric_.

She then looked at the man that stood on his right, leaning against the doorframe like he wanted to be anywhere else, as long as that place wasn't here. He smirked at her, almost to say _"like what you see?,"_ but it was weak. His icy blue eyes said that he was interested to see where this was going. _Damon._

The only person in the room she didn't recognize was the nurse, but she might have simply forgotten about her character. She didn't watch every episode of the show, after all.

That thought process almost made her cry in hysteria. _Almost_

She breathed in and out. She silently rejoiced in her ability to do so.

She turned her tired eyes back to the ones on her bed and asked the question she had been dreading since she woke up and found out she was in "her" room.

"Where am I?"


	5. Wherein she has amnesia?

iv.

"She doesn't recognize her room," the nurse filled the others in. She nervously glanced at the room's occupants, "I asked her if she knew where she was, but she thought she was in a hospital. I told her it was her room but she looked surprised."

"Jo," the boy called Jeremy said more seriously, "what do you remember?"

 _(WaterwaterwatErWaterwATerwaterWAterwATerwaTERWATERWA—)_

 _(Stop.)_

"I remember drowning." _An oversimplification._

She didn't dwell on the sad look in his eyes. She didn't dwell on the realization that she was _right_. That this was how this body arrived here. That what she was seeing could possibly be real and not some vivid hallucination her mind conjured up while she was in the w—

"Why do you keep calling me Jo?"

"That's your name, sweetie," Beatrice took over for the speechless siblings. She pulled a chair from behind her and sat on it so she was directly beside her.

She placed her warm hand in hers and she calmed ever so slightly.

"Your name is Joana Daisy Gilbert," she informed her. She gestured to the teens on her bed, "Elena is your older sister and Jeremy is your twin."

"Twin?" She felt her poker face break for a moment.

 _That's not my name and these people can't be my siblings,_ she wanted to scream.

"And Alaric," Elena gestured to the man by the door who had been standing protectively over them since entering, "is kind of our guardian. He was our Aunt Jenna's boyfriend before she—"

Jeremy nudged her and she quieted. _Died_ , she thought tiredly for the nth time. Elena meant to say that Jenna died. Like John, Jeremy's uncle. Elena's real father.

According to the _show_.

 _(This is_ too _much.)_

"Your parents died in a car crash over Wickery Bridge last summer. You and your sister were with them too, but while she survived without much injury, you've been in a coma since arriving in the hospital." The nurse was calm, her voice soft and steady, her eyes understanding. _She wanted to slap her._

"You're in your room in Mystic Falls. It's September 5, 2010." Beatrice offered her a small smile, but it didn't comfort her as much as the warmth in her hand did. "School begins again tomorrow."

Her head was spinning and her heart — the organ in her chest that had not beat even once for over a year — was beating _too_ fast.

She vomited on the other side of her bed.

All that came out was water — _salt water,_ she realized tiredly. Not the fresh water she knew the river under the Wickery Bridge had.

She felt faint.

But, _no._ If they were to be believed, then she'd been unconscious for over a year. Too much of her life had been spent gone. _Wasted_. She wasn't going to lose anymore of her waking moments if she had any say on the matter. In fact—

She tried to stand and move and feel the weightlessness she had missed since that day, but fell on her ass painfully instead.

"Why can't I stand?" She was in near hysterics. She could barely control her movements.

Elena and Jeremy made a move to pick her up, but it was Alaric who brought her back to her bed. He treated her delicately, his warm arms engulfing her body for mere moments, as he set her down slowly as if he was handling fine china. He didn't offer any other sign of acknowledgment besides offering her a small smile, but she appreciated the gesture.

The nurse fussed over her afterwards. "It's called body atrophy," she informed her, "you've been on a bed for so long that your body inevitably declined. You'll need extensive therapy to—"

"Actually," Elena cleared her throat. She looked hesitant but stern at the same time as she talked over Beatrice, "our father gave us something to help with just that. She'll be perfectly fine after receiving it, so if—"

"No, you don't understand," the nurse insisted, "she needs to be brought to the hospital immediately and receive a professional assessment on her psychological state. That's not even mentioning the amount of physical examinations she'll need for vomiting _water_ —"

 _(Flashes of water and darkness and halluci_ _nations and—)_

 _(Stop.)_

She observed as Elena discretely nodded to Damon, who walked over to the nurse and looked deep into her eyes. She realized at the same moment the other two people in the room did that they intended to give her a cure that was in no way pharmaceutically approved, and that they were going to get away with it by doing something no human could possibly do.

"Let's step outside for a second," Damon compelled, his icy blue eyes staring deeply into Beatrice's own green ones. Soon, they walked out of the bedroom and she was left with just Alaric and the Gilberts.


	6. Wherein she looks at pictures

v.

"You really don't remember us?" Jeremy asked while Alaric and Elena engaged in a heated discussion in the corner of the room.

She shook her head. She sure as hell wasn't going to tell him that she did, just not in the way he'd expect.

"I don't remember anything before dr—," she paused, "you know."

A quiet moment passed between the two as she looked down at her hands and observed that they weren't pruning from the water anymore.

 _(Concern for my imminent decaying and bloating was a reoccurring fear. Up until the moment that I realized that death was simply an introduction to eternity and that time didn't matter in the abyss. I couldn't rot if the passage of time didn't exist. Underneath, there was only_ now _and_ now _lasted forever_. _)_

She sighed.

She reveled in her breathing. Reveled in her heartbeats. Reveled in the feel of air against her skin. Reveled in the dryness of her hair and body. Her eyes and lungs were no longer burning from the salt water invading all her senses.

Though her mind was chaotic, she had never felt as alive in her life as she felt now.

She should be running outside right now, dancing underneath the starry night sky that she hadn't seen in so long, but she wasn't physically capable yet. She almost couldn't believe that she had been under a coma this whole time, yet here she was — stuck on a bed, unable to control her own limbs. Her physical body had atrophied.

Jeremy took her silence for melancholy, true as it was, so took her hands in his to lighten the mood. She reveled in the warmth of his touch. "It's going to be alright," he assured her, "I know you must be really confused right now, but I'll be here every step of the way helping you."

She gauged the sincerity in his eyes. "Why?"

"Because even if you don't remember me, I remember you. I'm still your twin," he said, smiling. "Besides, we made a pact when we were kids to always be there for each other." He turned his searching eyes to the shelves lining the walls of the room. _They must've left it the way it was for their sister._

"In fact—," he snatched a heavily decorated scrapbook off a shelf, "you documented it." He sat beside her on the bed with the scrapbook opened, showing her pictures that his sister — _her?_ — presumably took.

"Dad gave you a camera when we were really young because you always used to say that you wanted to have at least one moment of every day with you so that," he paused, "so that you'd never forget."

 _(Dad had given me a camera months before he died. What does all this mean?)_

He cleared his throat and flipped the page, showing her a picture of two brunette children pinky swearing. "You made mom take this picture because you couldn't hold the camera yourself," he mentioned. "But see? We made a promise that day to never leave the other alone."

She repressed the urge to gasp. She repressed the thoughts that were bound to break free. She chose to avoid at that moment the reality of her situation. _Because those pictures were, undoubtedly, of her._

She chose to deal with that later.

She focused on him, on his body warmth, and the sadness evident in his voice.

She gripped his free hand tighter.

She had never been a particularly empathetic person in her old life. Emotions, especially those of other's, had always been hard for her to deal with.

But she watched his terribly destructive behavior on screen. She saw it for what it really was — a cry for help.

She could only imagine what it was like for him, had a beloved twin also been included in his list of people to grieve for.

It was for that reason that she said the following words, "I'm sorry." He looked at her, confused. "I'm sorry for leaving you alone."

He shook his head. "You didn't want to, so don't worry, it's not a breach of contract," he jokingly said. He wrapped his arm around her side, pulling her to him slightly. "Besides, I knew you wouldn't have died. Together in the womb, together into the tomb."

She smirked. "Was that something we'd say?"

"Morbid, isn't it?" He laughed and she allowed herself to laugh a little along with him.

She didn't know him, not like he knew his sister — _her?_ — but she desperately wanted to at that moment.

 _(I've never had a brother before.)_

"Delivery!" Damon abruptly announced as he entered the room, cup in hand.


	7. Wherein she drinks blood

vi.

"Here, drink this," Elena urged her after getting the cup from Damon and thanking him. She put the cup in her hands as they all crowded around the bed.

She eyed the glass in her hands warily and sniffed. She was relieved that he gave her hot tea, as the warmth of the cup oozed into her palms, but she was wary all the same. She was reluctant to approach a liquid so soon after finally reaching the surface, but she recognized the necessity. The concoction smelled herby, so he must've laced it with vervain.

Speaking of... _where was Stefan?_ She wondered what episode and season she found herself on, then remembered the date Beatrice gave her.

 _2010_.

 _And if school began tomorrow, then…_

 _Great_ , she thought bitterly. _She'd have to deal with no-humanity-Stefan._ She silently thanked the older Salvatore for giving her the tea.

"Don't worry," Elena assured her, mistaking her silence for hesitance, "it won't do anything other than heal you."

Alaric lightly scoffed in the background. Elena pointedly ignored it.

Bracing herself, she drank the warm concoction, eventually finishing it. She was surprised to find that she was _this_ thirsty.

"How do you feel?" Jeremy asked from beside her.

She wasn't sure how to respond. She had expected the drink to taste at least a little metallic, given that its main ingredient was _blood_ , but it tasted normal.

 _Well, as normal as vervain tea could taste._

So instead of replying, she gave standing up a second try.

Like a toddler walking her first steps, she stood and wobbled a bit as she tried to balance her weight, all while under the watchful gaze of four people.

She stretched her limbs and walked around. Her body was suddenly filled with energy and the migraine she acquired awhile ago was gone!

 _Instead of pills and caffeine, students everywhere would have abused the shit out of vampire blood_ , she thought. Her blood was soaring, her limbs felt light, and her heart sped up with a sudden rush of adrenaline.

She gave them a hesitant smile, the first they'd seen from her. "Thanks, doc!"

Elena hugged her fiercely. "I'm glad you're feeling better," she said sincerely. "The others are going to be so surprised when they see you at school tomorrow."

"Wait, what?" There was no way she was going back to school. She was a graduating senior before she—

"Elena, I don't think she should go to school yet," Alaric said.

"Yeah, she just got out of a coma!" Jeremy reminded her.

"I know that, Jer, but she's feeling better now! Going back to school would be the perfect chance for her life to go back to normal," Elena exclaimed.

 _Ah, Elena and her obsession with "normal."_

"You could just ask the girl," Damon uttered.

Elena widened her eyes as she turned to her. "Right, Jo, sorry. This is about your life and we should've asked for your input."

Still weird. _Wasn't Alaric's future wife named Jo too? And daughter?_

"Thanks, I guess," she said, unsure of herself. "Well, I did just miss an entire year of school which would mean that I'd have to take the year that I missed," Alaric nodded in confirmation so she continued, "and I don't remember anyone in that school so it _would_ be pretty overwhelming to go back there."

"I think I have a solution to that," Alaric announced. "A crowd of strangers is a no-go for you but you still need to get your high school education, so I can homeschool you, if you'd prefer."

"That's a really good idea, A—" She trailed off, unsure whether to call him Alaric or Mr. Saltzman, although she's not supposed to know _that_ yet.

"Alaric," he added with a smile, thinking that she simply forgot his name.

"Alaric," she repeated, feeling the name roll off her tongue. She felt pleased, but still couldn't shake off how strange the situation was.

"Elena and I have school, and Alaric is a teacher, which means you'll be alone for most of the day," Jeremy worried, "are you okay with that?"

"Yeah, I'd actually feel a lot better if you weren't alone," Elena added, "I could ask Damon if he could stay with you while we're away." Damon was affronted by that statement, to say the least.

"I'm not a babysitter," Damon reminded Elena, who just gave him a look.

"That's alright," she assured them, "I think I'd like it better to have some alone time to, you know, settle myself."

"Right, you need some time to adjust," Elena said understandingly.

A moment of silence passed between them.

She didn't know how she was supposed to move forward. She didn't know whether this was truly real or not. All she knew was that she was here, _alive_ , and she craved _warmth_.

"Does this house have a fireplace?"


	8. Wherein she thinks

vii.

She woke up gasping for breath.

She expected to be met with water instead, to have it rushing down her throat as it always did.

She did not expect to actually _suck in_ a breath.

She was was dreaming of a watery grave. Of death so cold, she felt frozen. Of an ocean she could never hope to escape. Yet she _did_.

She woke up instead to a darkened living room beside a smoky fireplace, its flames already died out.

She stilled her thankfully beating heart and steadied her breathing. She was _not_ underwater. She was _not_ drowning anymore.

 _But why did it feel like she still was?_

She shook her head. She did not want to ruminate in that any longer. Too much of her life has been wasted already.

She looked at the wall clock.

 _2:57 am._

She had barely slept, yet she did not want to rest anymore. Not when her mind was still stuck in the abyss.

She ruminated instead on the past several hours. About swimming to the surface, seeing a light, and waking up in a strange room in a _fictional town_ , nay _world_.

Utter panic threatened to override her senses, but out of habit, she pushed those destructive thoughts down. _Repression is the key._

She was _not_ going to have a panic attack over this.

She _didn't_ have a panic attack at her first ballet recital. She _didn't_ have a panic attack the first time she took the lead role as prima ballerina. She _didn't_ have a panic attack at her first voice recital all the way to her last.

She _didn't_ have a panic attack whenever her mother would have her bursts of rage. She _didn't_ have a panic attack when her second stepfather molested her. And she definitely did _not_ have a panic attack when she found her dad's bloody corpse in his ransacked house.

She always maintained stoic.

Cool, calm, and collected.

 _Like mother always said._

 _("Delilah, whatever you feel inside, never show it to the world,"_ my mother's chilling voice reverberated through my head, phantom fingers grasping my chin harshly, _"showing it would be weakness and I cannot have a weak daughter.")_

She shook her head again as she walked through the house, taking in the designs and the furniture. She made sure to tiptoe so as to not wake Alaric's sleeping form on the couch.

 _(It was strange, seeing the house up close and personal. I never imagined this even in my wildest dreams.)_

She turned on some lights to get a better look at everything. She had been in the sitting room, sleeping in front of the fireplace with only a blanket and a pillow on the floor. Alaric had provided it for her while she, Elena, and Jeremy talked about "their" family on the couch.

They'd updated her that the parents she couldn't remember had died in the car underwater, that the paramedics found her dead but brought her back to life just in time. They told her about Aunt Jenna, that she'd died around the same time as Uncle John, who's actually Elena's dad, thus their cousin by blood. They told her about Isobel, and how she was Elena's birth mother as well as Alaric's wife for a while.

She didn't tell them that she already knew all this.

Anyway, it seemed to her that Elena and Jeremy needed to let it all out— even if they didn't disclose the supernatural element of their story. They were still teenagers with too much on their plates, and unlike her, they could talk about it.

Instead, she asked them to leave her there, explaining that she felt cold. Jeremy wanted to stay down there with her, while Elena wanted her to sleep on "her" own bed.

She almost wanted to laugh. They were strangers to her, but she was a sister to them.

At around midnight, she convinced them to leave her alone. Surprisingly enough, it was Damon who helped her achieve that, before he eventually left the Gilbert residence.

She didn't sleep until it was 1 am. She stared at the fire, reveled in the warmth she felt due to her closeness to it, then fell asleep with a sense of serenity that she'd completely forgotten.

Finally, after opening several doors in search of a bathroom, she found it down the hall which was close to the kitchen. She took note of her surroundings, imprinting them in her mind.

Her hand gripped the doorknob, and twisted it ever so gently.

She hasn't seen her own reflection since she'd "woken up." She didn't have the opportunity to last night, but now that she did, she wasn't sure what she'd see once she looks at the mirror.

Would she look different? Would she be the same? This body felt like hers, but it belonged to someone else.

Did she even remember her own reflection correctly?

 _(Bracing myself, I turn the knob.)_

* * *

Author's note:

Hi, all! Just wanted to give you guys a quick update on this story. So, as some of you may have noticed, my updates are kinda sporadic? I get these intense writing blocks but then when inspiration hits, I write in quick succession. I hope you guys don't mind!

(Although I've had this chapter written out for a while now, I simply wasn't able to edit for some time because it's the end of the sem of my uni = finals)

Also, to address some reviews:

No, she will _not_ replace Hayley in the timeline and have Klaus' baby. This isn't that kind of story actually. I want you guys to understand that this story is going to get really dark really soon. In fact, this whole story will be _drowning_ in insanity soon enough. Ergo, romance isn't a significant aspect of this story. ( **UPDATE 6/14** : I've decided that romance _will_ be important to the story, but maybe not in the way that you would imagine. Her story will definitely not revolve around her love life, that's for certain.)

Spoiler alert, I do intend for her to be with a Mikaelson, I just haven't decided who. And I haven't quite figured out if I want that pairing as endgame or just as some bump in the road. ( **UPDATE:** I have now, and I'm giddy.)

Personally, I'd love for someone as insane as her to be with Kol, but I really want Kol to have his happy ending with Davina. So really, the decision is between Elijah and Klaus. Although, my thought process thus far has painted Elijah as more of a companion/father figure and Klaus as a _really_ good friend because of their similar backgrounds.)

Perhaps I should pair her with Kai?

Anyway...

That's it really. Most of the questions have been in regard to her romantic prospects, so I just really wanted to clarify that so no one will be going into this with high hopes for romance.

Before I go, I just wanted to say thank you to all the ones who favorited and followed this story! I honestly didn't expect this kind of reception, so thanks for all the nice comments and whatnot! You guys really motivate me to finish this and I'm honestly excited for the direction this story is going!

Feel free to leave a review! More reviews mean quicker updates ( _possibly_ ) :)

xx,

Alli


	9. Wherein her past is revealed pt 1

_**TRIGGER WARNING:**_

This chapter deals with topics of sexual assault. Read at your own risk.

* * *

viii.

 _"I like your hair like this."_

 _His disgusting breath brushed against the back of my neck as he caressed my long, curly, brown locks away. My mother had barely even closed the front door behind her before he pounced._

 _"It's different from your mom's," he continued to say as he roamed his hands along my sides._

 _I tried to keep my body completely still. If I leaned back, he'd take it as encouragement. If I leaned foreward, he'd see it as an invitation for him move his body closer to mine. So I just stared straight ahead into the kitchen cupboards as my own hands shook._

 _I continued to prepare my cereal and_ _I kept my mouth shut. I didn't know what else to do. But inside, inside I was screaming._

 _"Nothing to say?"_ _A breathy chuckle that sent unwelcomed shivers down my spine. "Not like your mother at all."_

 _I could feel him against me. I could feel what he wanted. He's made advances like these before, but none have gone farther than touches in the middle of the night when he thinks I'm sleeping._

 _I've been feeling his tension these past few months. I knew it was only a matter of time before he—_

 _"Hon, have you seen my glasses—"_

 _He cleared his throat and reached for a plate above my head. He casually stepped away from my trembling body as he turned to face my mom, who watched the scene with a critical eye._

 _"Have you checked your bedside table?"_

 _I kept myself from sighing as I noticed that my cereal had gone soggy during our interaction. Taking the bowl with both hands, I walked to the dining table as calmly as I could._

 _"Delilah," my mother's stern voice called. I startled but managed to set my bowl down gently before facing her._

 _"Yes, mom?"_

 _Cold blue eyes trained on my form._

 _"Don't forget that your classes resume tomorrow."_

 _With that reminder, mother turned to leave. With a simple sharp nod of her head, framed by pin straight blonde hair, her second husband followed closely after her._

 _(The first day of 8th grade saw Delilah showing off her new appearance. Instead of hazel eyes, she sported blue ones with the help of eye contacts. Instead of wild brown hair, she had it dyed to blonde and cut much shorter.)_

 _(She didn't want to be different from her mom anymore.)_

 _(Months later, her mom divorces him. They never talk about what happened, about the things he did to her, but Delilah knew that she knew.)_

 _(She figures that her mom did it to prevent her daughter from becoming too much like her.)_

* * *

 **Author's note:**

Hi, again! Sorry for the super long wait. I hope you liked this little insight to who she was before the transfer.

P.S. I updated the previous chapters. Not much change, tbh, but I wanted to alter some things to accomate the mental changes I've made to this fic's plot and to my OC's background.

KateKat1992: Thanks for the review! Silas is an interesting suggestion for sure, but I'm not entirely sure if it would work since he's completely obsessed with Amara and the idea of Amara for, like, 2000 years.

MageVicky: Thanks for the reviews! Regarding her darkness; well, think about all the years of trauma and neglect she'd gone through in her first life and the utter train wreck that is her second life. Throughout the story, she's going to be dealing with her new reality, which she has trouble with thinking as even real. Whether or not she will be psycho dark, on the other hand, will be revealed soon enough!

Also, all questions regarding plot will be answered soon, simply read on!

Feel free to leave a review! More reviews equate to more motivation to finish this fic before summer ends!

xx,

Alli


	10. Wherein she sees herself

ix.

A sharp intake of breath.

Straight brown hair. Eyes darker than hazel. Skin with much more color than she's accustomed to.

But undoubtedly _her_.

Her nose, lips, cheeks, and bone structure are still hers — and for that she's glad — but the differences are obvious to her. _No trace of bleached blonde or artificial blue eyes in sight._

Her face is blank and her mouth is unmoving, but her body is shaking with barely contained anxiety and her mind is undertaken by tumultuous thoughts.

 _This is wrong. Wrong wrong wrong wrongwrongwrongw—_

Her right hand grips the pair of scissors she sees on the counter before she thinks any further. A second barely passes before she takes some hair in her other hand and _cuts_.

She keeps cutting her hair without a specific image in mind. She only has eyes for herself as she works robotically.

* * *

 **Author's note:**

Short chapter, I know, but I've pictured each chapter as a scene basically — which means that a single episode in the season could translate to 10 chapters in my fic. I've just begun trying out this writing style, so I may be rusty, so constructive criticism is very much welcome!

Next scene is when canon really begins. Stay tuned!

xx,

Alli


	11. Wherein she sees the story begin

x.

The sun has only begun to rise when Elena and Alaric interrupt her meditation on the front porch.

"Good morning, Jo," Elena greets, with an odd expression on her face. "Cut your hair this morning?"

Heat rushes to her cheeks. "Yeah," she replies softly, not offering an explanation. She subconsciously fixes the full bangs on her forehead and tucks her now-shorter brown hair behind her ears. She avoids looking at them and simply continues gazing at the fresh green grass, praying that her damning thoughts stay quiet.

 _Breath in. Breathe out._

Thankfully, Alaric seems to understand that and nudges Elena not-so-discreetly to stay quiet. Elena didn't seem to want to leave her yet as she continues to stand around awkwardly, "I didn't expect to see you up so early." She merely shrugged and murmured a vague _couldn't sleep_ in reply.

Elena glances at Alaric worriedly behind her back. "Well, Alaric and I are going to get some exercise in before going to school. Will you be alright by yourself in the meantime?"

"Yeah, I think so," she nods kindly. She knew it should feel more odd to her, interacting with these people like family, but it somehow _doesn't._ Besides, she decided at around 4 in the morning that playing along was the safest route to take. She'll play along up until an opportunity to leave and stay far away from the plot appears.

It's not before long that Elena and Alaric say their goodbyes.

Briefly, she thinks about Elena's training in the woods.

 _Wooden stakes protruding from the chest of a practice dummy._

 _"You're not strong enough."_

 _"The element of surprise is your only advantage when it comes to a vampire."_

 _A vervain grenade without its pin._

 _"Vampires will take whatever they want. They will hurt whoever they want. And they'll do it without remorse."_

 _Determination set in brown doe eyes._

She shakes her head.

"The story begins," she whispers to herself.


	12. Wherein she sees them leave

xi.

"And you remember where we keep the food?"

"Yes, Jeremy."

"And the first-aid kit?"

"Yes, Jeremy."

"And you know which numbers to call to reach either me or Elena?"

"Yes, mom."

Jeremy falters at the doorway and laughs. "I guess I kinda am acting like one, aren't I?

She lets a chuckle pass through her lips. "Maybe a little." _He may not really be her brother, but it was nice to pretend. After all, when was the last time someone actually cared about her well-being?_

He sighs and brushes his hand through his hair. "I'm sorry if I'm being overbearing, it's just that– it's just– I um–"

"It's ok," she lays her hand on his shoulder, "I understand." She feels the moment that his body releases the tension he's been holding and relaxes as well.

"I wish I could stay here with you," he says abruptly. "It's just not right that you'll be alone on your first day back. I mean, it's just school. I can miss a couple of days and help you recover and–"

"Jeremy, I get that you're concerned, but I'm perfectly safe here." She doesn't miss the glance that both Alaric and Jeremy give one another. She herself knows that her words are false, but she doesn't want a near-stranger breathing down her neck no matter how nice it felt to be cared for. _She needs more time alone and to think. I won't be getting that if he skips classes for me._ "Besides, if anything happens, I can call you and you can use me as your excuse to cut class as much as you want."

He laughs. "I'll keep that in mind."

Jeremy turns to leave with Alaric in tow. Elena already left a few minutes ago to ride with Bonnie to school. And, as agreed, she hasn't told her best friends about my waking up until after school.

She follows after them quietly in time to catch the words Jeremy whispers to Alaric. "Stefan doesn't know she's awake, right?" Alaric responds affirmatively. "Good, let's keep it that way."

Once they reach Alaric's car, Jeremy turns to her. "I love you."

She ignores the weird churning in her gut and manages to smile. "Love you, too."

The two drive away and she's alone again for the first time since–

* * *

 **AN:**

Thank you to all the kind people who left such nice reviews. Hope you all like my story so far!

I know the chapters are short, but the story itself will be long as it encompasses the entire series – including The Originals and Legacies!

For some reason, I never write my stories in order. So even if I update irregularly, know that several chapters in the middle and the end have been written already (including the ending) lol. I will try to fix that about myself, so hopefully I can learn to write and update within days instead of weeks.

 **IMPORTANT:**

I forgot to include this earlier, but let this serve as a **trigger warning** for everyone with traumatic experiences with abuse/neglect and sexual assault. I will never write explicit M rated scenes depicting her r*pe, but she will have very depressive thoughts occasionally. Depression and attempted suicides are also themes included in this fic that will be explained in later (later) chapters, so if you are sensitive towards such topics and in danger of relapse due to triggers, please take care of yourself first and stop reading my story. This story is a passion project of mine that was born out of some _experiences_ that I have in common with my OC, and writing this is how I let go of my past. So even if I'm not an easily triggered person, I'm aware that there are many others who are.

So, again, if you are sensitive with topics regarding past sexual assault, abuse/neglect, depression, and attempted suicide, DO NOT READ FURTHER. If you do, read at your own risk. Please.

Thank you.

xx,

Alli


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